


From the Ashes

by Jenksel



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Eve and Jenkins Bonding, Fire, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenksel/pseuds/Jenksel
Summary: Jenkins mourns as fire devastates the iconic Cathedral of Notre-Dame in Paris.





	From the Ashes

Everyone was gathered in front of the computer monitor, numbly glued to the horror unfolding before them via a live-stream from Paris.  The Cathedral of Notre-Dame was engulfed in flames, as though the jaws of Hell itself had opened up beneath the iconic building to devour it whole.

Everyone was silent and pale as they helplessly watched the destruction.  Even Ezekiel was quiet, his usual quips silenced and his face somber as he watched the church burn. 

Jacob, his jaw and fists tightly clenched, had tears filling in his eyes as he watched 850 years of history, art and architecture disappear in a matter of hours.

Flynn, too, was clearly emotional as he watched the monitor, his hand holding his wife’s tightly.  Eve stared at the fire, unable to look away as she mourned the loss of so much peace and beauty in world that do desperately needed those things now more than ever.

Cassandra didn’t even try to hide her tears.  She had broken down completely when the majestic spire and toppled over and crashed through the roof of the cathedral, Jenkins’s damp handkerchief clutched in both hands. 

Just last month, they’d all gone to Paris for a weekend, a quick break from the daily grind of work at the Library.  Jenkins, who’d been to the cathedral countless times over the course of its long life, took them around on a special guided tour, the Caretaker especially showing them out of the way spaces and objects in the huge church, telling them stories of its past, of things he had seen with his own eyes, of things that had happened within its walls that no one else remembered.  He had even taken them to a small, out of the way chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and after posting Jake and Ezekiel as guards, the immortal quickly located and pried up a small flagstone next to the altar.  He pulled out a large coin of solid gold, an _écu d'or_ from the reign of Louis IX.  He sheepishly explained to the astonished team that he had hidden coins in churches and shrines all over Europe for safekeeping; the immortal didn’t trust banks or bankers in those days.  He gifted the coin to Cassandra with a knightly flourish as a keepsake of their visit to the cathedral, her squeals of delight nearly high-pitched enough to endanger the ancient glass windows.

Jenkins now stood behind the others and watched as the same cathedral was stricken down, his face pale and slack, the fingers of one hand covering his mouth.  He remembered the first time he’d ever set foot inside Notre-Dame, only a few years after its completion in the Thirteenth Century.  He’d heard wondrous tales of its beauty, the miracle of its design, especially the windows, but the tales had been nothing compared to the reality.  The interior had been incredibly open and light, the vaulted ceilings seeming to soar upward to Heaven itself.  The heavy Romanesque pillars and thick, massive stone walls he was familiar with were absent here.  Notre-Dame’s walls were thin, held up by the new spidery flying buttresses outside; the walls could now allow gigantic, lace-like windows filled with jewel-toned stained glass that glowed like magic-fire as sunlight poured through them.  Intricate, brightly-painted and gilt carvings were everywhere, depicting everything from scenes from the Bible to the everyday lives of peasants, clergy and nobility.  The entire building was like walking into an enormous jewel-box.  It was unlike anything he had ever seen before in his long life, and it had taken his breath away.  Overcome by the pure, graceful beauty of his surroundings, the world-weary immortal had dropped to his knees where he stood and wept.

And now it gone.

Swallowing painfully against the lump now in his throat, Jenkins finally turned away from the monitor and quietly walked away.  Eve caught the movement out of the corner of her eye.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she whispered to a shell-shocked Flynn, giving his hand a quick squeeze.  She hurried after the Caretaker and caught up with him in the corridor.

“You okay, Jenkins?” she asked softly, lightly placing her hand on the old man’s arm as he turned to face her.  Her heart ached for him when she saw tears glistening dully on his weathered cheeks.

“Yes,” he said simply, quickly brushing them away. 

“I feel as though I’ve lost and old and treasured friend,” he blurted, anguished words tumbling from the normally taciturn man.  “I used to go there quite often whenever I needed to regain some sense of peace and order, some semblance of sanity in this insane world!  No matter how many years I spent on this miserable planet, no matter how many people I saw die of plague and famine and war—I could _always_ go to Notre-Dame and feel…that it all _still_ mattered.  That _I_ still mattered.”  He paused for a moment, struggling to regain his composure.

“I’m actually much older than the cathedral, you know,” he continued, calmer now.  “Older even than the very first church dedicated to Our Lady that was built on the Île in 522 AD.”  He waved behind him in the direction of the workroom where the others were still watching the fire. 

“But this current structure—there is simply no way to describe to you how truly beyond belief it was when it was built!” he said, his voice rough with emotion.  “For people of the Middle Ages, Eve, it was literally like…walking into an interface with the Divine, a “heavenly Annex”, if you will.  Men and women could _literally touch_ the Divine—could _see_ it, _hear_ it, _smell_ it, _taste_ it.  _Commune_ with it.  It wasn’t just a building, it wasn’t just a church; it was a portal, every bit as magical as our Back Door, and to us it was so… _unearthly_.  The fact that something so ethereal, so… _otherworldly_ was actually built by very earthly and imperfect human beings—it almost makes me believe in miracles.”  Jenkins shook his head sadly, then looked Eve in the eyes, his voice breaking as he finished.

“Immortal though I am, I never thought for a moment that _I_ would actually outlive Notre-Dame!”

With a soft groan of sympathy, Eve stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Jenkins and held him close.  She felt his arms encircle her body as he returned the embrace, heard him sniffle faintly, just once, and then he gently broke away from her.

“Yes, well…” he mumbled, quickly brushing fresh tears from his cheeks and straightening his suit coat as he tried to regain his usual air of decorum.  Eve reached out and took both of his hands in hers, forced him to look her in the eye.

“You haven’t outlived her yet, Jenkins; you haven’t lost her,” she reminded him firmly.  “The firefighters haven’t given up!  If they can save the walls, Notre-Dame can be rebuilt.  And knowing the French, they _will_ rebuild her!  She’s been through so much already over the centuries—wars, revolutions, natural disasters—she’s been knocked down and scarred in the past, yes.  But she’s always picked herself up, dust herself off and not only survived, but flourished in the end!  She might not be the _exact_ same building that she was this morning before the fire, and yeah, she’s added a few more scars to her collection—but she will _still_ be beautiful, Jenkins—just wait and see!  She’ll still be strong and resilient and get back onto her feet and she will stand for centuries to come.  Just like you.” 

Jenkins blinked, startled by her words.  He met her steady, calm eyes for a moment, then dropped his gaze.  His eyes flicked up again, saw the gentle smile of encouragement on her sad face, and he couldn’t hold his emotions back any longer.  He wound his long arms around her and held onto her, finally allowing his tears to flow quietly. 

“Thank you, Eve,” he whispered.  “Thank you.”  Eve slipped her arms around his waist and held him close, drawing as much comfort as she gave as she, too, wept for what had been lost, yet still hopeful for the future of the Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris, and of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I wrote this as a way of processing my own shock and sense of loss after spending all of yesterday watching the fire engulf Notre-Dame, a place I was fortunate enough to visit and fall in love with many years ago. When I was finally able to sleep last night, I had a dream where Jenkins was sobbing and saying that he never thought he would outlive Notre-Dame. Happily, today it looks as if she CAN be saved and rebuilt, thank heaven! Many thanks to Nerdish-Nostalgia/Elaya for the hopeful ending!


End file.
